Stages of Love   Joker and Harley Style
by AmetheSecond
Summary: The love story of a psycho and a psycho  clown.  It's Joker, it's Harley ... it's love!  Or something like it.  Because Harley loves her Puddin'.  Warnings for domestic violence and violence in general.  Hurtcomfort without the comfort.  JokerHarley Q.


Stages of Love Joker and Harley Style

Author's Notes: This was written ages ago. Well, in 2006 at least. Still I noticed it wasn't up on my website and thought I'd stick it up here while I was at it. Again, this was written for the Stages of Love community of Live Journal and takes Harley through the states of Attraction, Romance, Passion, Intimacy and Commitment. There just aren't enough words to tell just how much I love Harley. If I was going to snap and go psycho I hope I do it with as much flare as she did. While this is starting out normal, it's gonna get weird folks. I'd warn about the domestic violence but, well, it's Joker and Harley people. They're the poster children for Domestic Violence. I don't own Joker or Harley, DC does, I just borrowed them for some chaos for a bit.

**Lovefool.**

At first he was just a possible meal ticket, her ride to fame and glory. With the right information, the right spin to it, the Joker's story would have given her topics for over a hundred different articles for the journals, not to mention a book that would end up on the best seller list and get her on every talk show from _Good Morning Gotham_ and _Maury_, all the way to _Larry King_.

But then it...changed. Harleen was never sure just how it had happened, just that it did. One day she was analyzing him and the next...he was actually listening to her.

Not many people had ever done that before.

Then there were the little things. Cartoons sketched on pieces of paper, or a napkin folded into a flower. Little tokens of his affection. Just letting her know that he thought about her.

And Harleen thought about him. A lot. Doodles on her case notes, _Joker Loves Harley_ written on her hand in staff meetings. Not many people had taken the time to actually talk to her. To most people during college, she'd been an easy screw. It was nice -- flattering, really -- to have someone treat her like she was a lady. Like she was special.

And he didn't want much, really, just a second chance. The other doctors, they didn't know him like Harleen did. They didn't see the potential he had. And he'd promised he wouldn't do anything too bad, just a little practical joke or two. Turn a few frowns upside down. And really, Batman did take himself way too seriously. Harleen had wondered about Gotham City's so-called savior's mental health more than once, even before meeting her Puddin'.

Harleen unbuttoned her shirt and then walked to the main security room. Time to distract the guards while the object of her affections made his escape.

**Roses Are Red.**

Each day there was a single red rose waiting for her when she woke up. Pammy had once tried to teach her the meaning of all the flowers but Harley could only remember a few, and a red rose was one of them. It meant unity and romantic love. And it was romantic. There would be a little note with it, each signed with a _J_.

She loved how it smelled so nice, its scent filling the room. When she could, she'd take it and run it over her face, over her eyes and imagine it was his touch.

The charge nurse walked in, carrying another vase and another rose. "Here we go, Ms. Quinzel, your morning delivery. You're quite lucky; not many gentlemen would stand by you when..."

Harley ignored the woman's remark, the sarcasm in her voice grating on her nerves. The first chance she got, Harley was going to find the biggest joy buzzer that Mister J had and come back to the hospital and give her the shock of her life.

But she was right, it was nice that her Puddin' remembered her. And since he was sending her roses, she bet he forgave her, too. She didn't mean to mess up, he must have realized that. It just happened sometimes. Plus the Caped Crouton was awfully smart; how was she supposed to know he was following her?

She figured the roses meant that all was forgiven. After all, Mister J's little love tap had taught her a lesson. Plus after she got out of the hospital she'd have to go back to Arkham. Harley even bet that her Puddin' was feeling bad about that. And he probably hadn't even noticed the window behind her was open.

She picked up her new rose, being careful of her bandaged wrist where a piece of metal had snagged her arm when she'd hit the ground. It was barely opened, and the smell covered the scent of antiseptic and illness.

It really was romantic. No one had ever sent her roses before. She'd have to make sure she thanked her Puddin' properly once she was well enough to bust out of Arkham.

**Clowning Around**

Harley had to giggle as she watched her Puddin' put his latest plan into action. He always had so much fun planning their little escapades, and this one was particularly fun! The circus was in town. Oh, not one of the fun circuses with elephants and tigers like Haley's Circus, but one of those snot nosed fancy ones with, as her Puddin' called it, the "artsy-fartsy acrobats".

When Mister J had found the advertisement in the paper he'd been enraged, throwing things and yelling and shooting a minion or two. Harley had to admit he was right; it was against nature to have a circus without clowns.

Well, they'd fixed that, hadn't they? The entire gang was here, dressed in their clowny best and giving out balloons to all the little kiddies for free. Why, they were performing a public service! After all, what was a circus without balloons and clowns?

"Harley? HAR-LEY! Where are you, my little nitwit?"

Harley bounced to her love's side. "Here, Mister J!"

"Is everything ready?"

Harley nodded. "Yep. The balloons have all been filled with your own brand of Giggle Gas, and the minions all have blow guns with darts to pop 'em in the stands. As soon as you give the signal, we'll pop them and the crowd will start laughing themselves to death! Then we can clean up with wallets and jewelery and stuff. It's a great plan!"

Her Puddin' sighed. "Of course it's a great plan, Harley, because _I planned it!_ I'm sure if you had planned it, something inane would be involved. Bubble gum that explodes or something equally stupid."

Harley nodded. "Your plans are always the best, Puddin'."

And they were. No one did random chaos like the Joker. He had a passion for it; it was fun to watch.

"Stop gawking, Harley, and get to work. We need to pull this off before the Bat comes along to poop on our party." Joker started laughing. "Get it? Poop on our party? Hahahahahahaha!"

Harley giggled. "Good one, Mister J! We'll get on it!" She turned to give his orders to the minions, a happy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her Puddin' was trusting her to implement his scheme! If all went as planned, maybe there would be some extra fun to be had when they celebrated later that night. It felt good, helping the Joker fulfill his life's work. Causing chaos might be the Joker's mission, but helping him was Harley's passion.

**Close To You.**

There were some days when being with her Puddin' was a trial. Usually it was around the time the Caped Crouton would show up and ruin all their fun. Still, she loved Mister J. and would do anything for him.

She just had to figure out how to cheer him up this time. Or better yet, distract him. She could do distracting.

"Mister J? Puddin'? I made your favorite—SpaghettiOs. And all the minions are out for the night. We can have a nice romantic evening, all alone and cozy like."

"Quiet, Harley, I'm planning on how to kill off all the cast of the next incarnation of_Survivor_."

"But Puddin', you gotta eat. Besides, how will killing off those wannabes make us any money?"

Joker glared at her. "It won't, Harley! I was making a _joke_!"

"Oh? Oh! That's real funny, Mister J!" Harley gave a weak laugh. It didn't seem that funny to her, but it would be fun to actually _do_. All those reality shows were taking over and there were less sitcoms on. Maybe they could do a food drop, but have the food tainted with botulism and whoever lived through the food poisoning got the money?

"Harley, do you even know the meaning of the word patronizing?"

"Umm, sure! It's the characteristic of those who treat others with condescension."

"Since you know what it means, my little whoopee cushion, I suggest that you QUIT DOING IT!"

The Joker pulled her in close to scream in her face before giving her a shake and throwing her against the wall. Harley gasped as the breath was knocked out of her and she fought not to slide to the floor.

"But – Puddin'- I made you a nice romantic dinner so you could relax! There's even little gingerbread men for dessert so you can bite their heads off!"

"Harley, the best way you can help me relax is by playing in traffic. I'm plotting here! I need it quiet! I can't plot how to kill Batman using toxic silly putty if you're nattering at me incessantly! Why don't you be a good little hench girl and jump off the roof of Wayne Towers?"

"O-okay, Puddin', I'll just put you a plate in the microwave in case you want a post-planning snack."

There was a crash as Joker picked up one of the toys he had on his workstation and threw it at her. Harley ducked and slunk out of the room, discouraged.

One day, one day she'd prove to her Puddin' just how much she loved him. Then he'd let her get close.

**Totally Committed**

"You pasty faced freak!! You...you CLOWN! TRAITOR! I'll get you back, you bastard!!"

Harley struggled against the cops that were trying to subdue her. Okay, so she had a nifty pair of handcuffs, courtesy of the BatFreak, but she wasn't going quietly. She struggled and fought and kicked until she felt a sharp sting in her arm.

"No fair! Using sedatives is cheating! You didn't ask...about... drug...allergies..."

She woke up back in Arkham. Not just in Arkham but in solitary. White walls, no windows, no glass wall or door. She couldn't even make faces at the loons on the other side of the hallway.

It was all Joker's fault. He left her there for the Batman to catch, used her as a distraction. She kind of hoped that Bats hit him a good one, right in the kisser. How could he? After all Harley had done for him. Ironed his shorts, refilled the acid in his boutonniere and stolen his favorite comics, just to name a few of the things. And he had tossed her away like a wad of used up gum, to stick on the bottom of Batman's boot and annoy him.

She'd get him back, though; either she'd bust out or he'd end up back in Arkham. Heck, he might be in one of the other cells at that very moment. She'd pay him back. Harley just had to plan. Maybe she'd switch the polarity on one of his joy buzzers so Joker would give himself a shock. Harley could wait. She knew how to hold a grudge.

Well, unless he apologized nicely. And gave her chocolates. Maybe some jewelery. Harley just might forgive him, if he groveled properly. Then everything would go back to normal.

Harley and Joker, together again.

The End


End file.
